Cast the Dice
by Nythtak
Summary: I was far from the upstanding citizen in my previous life; why would I be any different in this one, where the notion of survival of the fittest dominated? The fact that I knew the future was quite the advantage considering who I'd been reborn as. OC-insert OC!Sasuke
1. One: The Boy smiled at the Wolf

What is death?

_Death is the knife that stabs the heart the hand that grips the throat- _

Noun_: _the action or fact of dying or being killed; the end of the life of a person or organism; the permanent ending of vital processes in a cell or tissue.

_-the water that chokes the breath the blood that runs the fire that chars the body-_

Ending of vital processes…such a clinical statement, isn't it? It tells nothing of those last, choking moments when death is such a certainty that you can _feel _it's heavy presence, of the desperate panic that ripples through you with the primal desire to _live _even as the hopelessness drags down what little fight remains. And how could you be expected to combat such a potent force? The sheer inevitability consumes your mind, shreds and shatters it with apathy because you are _insignificant, _just another mass of atoms in such an arrangement that allows you a life so easy to extinguish.

_-the poison that breaks the body the smoke that clouds the mind the chains the constrict the lungs-_

And it _is _easy, no matter the belief of invulnerability you cloak yourself in. Even the strongest can fall, _will _fall, for nothing escapes the cloying grasp of death when it comes to call. If fortune in in your favour perhaps you will live a long and happy life, achieve your ambitions and content yourself with the restfulness of old age, and pass away peacefully in your sleep. But in this world such luck is rare.

_-the blow that crushes the bones the hunger that consumes the body the infection that burns the flesh-_

So many ways to die…We're rather fragile, aren't we? It hardly takes any effort at all to kill. A well-placed blow with nary a weapon is all that is needed to down a man so much more powerful , so much stronger. A blade only makes things easier, if a little messy if you don't take care to avoid the blood. And those were only the simpler methods; poison, drowning, burning, blunt force trauma, overdose, overeating, electrocution, suffocation, disease, dehydration, starvation – and those are only off the top of my head! Flesh can be pieced, bone can be crushed, organs can be damaged, minds can be ravaged; the possibilities were endless.

We're so soft, so _weak. _Oh, we claim otherwise, but such validity is so easily pulled into question. Our illusions of power are just that; illusions. When you take away our…security blanket, shall we say, what remains of the power that once was?

What is a soldier without his gun? What is a government without its money? What is a mugger without his knife? What is a conman without his words? What is a genius without his mind?

_-cutcutcut the flesh-_

What is a serial killer without his tools?

* * *

_One day, a boy is abandoned by his family in the deep woods._

_A draught destroyed their crops and they could not feed themselves as well as the boy. The father carries him there whilst the boy sleeps, the mother and sister following close behind. They leave him at the base of a tree and hurry away. _

_The boy wakes and quickly realises what has happened. He does not cry. _

_The boy begins to walk. He follows no path for there are no paths in the deep wood. Humans rarely venture there for it is the territory of wolves. The boy walks, and as the sun sets he grows hungry._

_The boy comes across an owl sitting in a tree, eating a rat. He calls out to the owl. "Oh Owl, won't you share your meal with me?" _

_The owl peers at the boy. "No, I will not. My beak is sharp and my talons will tear. Leave, or I will make you my supper!"_

_The boy walks away. He soon comes across a snake slung across a branch, eating a frog. "Oh Snake, won't you share your meal with me?"_

_The snake sneers at the boy. "I shan't, I say. My bite is deadly and my coils constrict. Leave, or I will make you my supper!"_

_The boy walks away. He soon comes across a wolf that hunches over three bodies, its snout buried in their flesh. The boy moves closer and sees that the bodies are his father, mother and sister, their throats torn out. He blinks and stops. _

"_Oh Wolf, won't you share your meal with me?"_

* * *

Rebirth. It was a fanciful concept at best, one better suited to fairy tales where the good guys always won and evil was committed for evil's sake. It was unsupported, illogical and made no sense; how could a 'soul' be transferred from one body to another? Was there some higher power that had the ability to do so? Why would it do so in the first place, what could it possibly gain? Should it even exist in the first place, of course. If it could occur, how would the soul in question not be driven insane by such an act? To be a baby was to be helpless, completely dependent on those who cared for you, trapped in a world of blurs and incomprehensible sound in a body that could barely move. Cry and scream all you like; no one can understand your terror, your confusion, the life you've left behind.

So I didn't cry. I quickly realised what had happened, even as my awareness was clouded with the developing brain of a newborn and the confusion of such a strange experience. I'd died, and now I was alive in what was evidently a baby's body; it was hardly a difficult conclusion to come to. Denials would've come next – _I'm in a coma, I'm dreaming, I'm in Hell _– if I were someone else perhaps. I didn't drown myself in memories of my life because despite the absurdness of this situation I was happy. Why wouldn't I be? I'm alive when I should most certainly be dead, and I don't want to be dead, so how could I view this as a bad thing? I hadn't died peacefully, satisfied with my lot in life; I wanted to _live._

It was irritating being a baby with so little control over my life when I was used to being an independent adult, but it was far better than the nothingness of death. I didn't believe in the afterlife – Heaven, Hell, Valhalla, etc. – so I hadn't exactly expected to find anything one the 'other side', as it were. Honestly being reborn was quite the improvement of the non-existence I'd expected.

However I didn't exactly appreciate my helpless state, so I set to learning as much about my surroundings as I could - which wasn't much. My vision was so poor that for a time everything was little more than blurs of various colours. Eventually it improved to an area of clarity in the middle of my field of vision, though it didn't extend beyond about half a metre, making it rather useless for figuring out where I was. It did, however allow me to recognise the faces of the people who I supposed were now my family. I learnt to recognise the dark-haired woman as my mother (who recovered from childbirth unusually quickly), the man who made a few appearances as my father, and a young boy as my brother.

Mother, father, brother…family. It was such a strange idea, really. With it came the expectation of an obligatory care for each other, a need to _love _these people who you may not even like. They may embody every characteristic that you loathe, but at the end of the day they were _family. _At least, that was what I'd heard. Personally I didn't understand the concept. Just because a person possessed DNA more similar to your own than the rest of humanity, they were more important? You should always love them no matter what crime they committed against you, and help them when they asked even if you would do no such thing for another? How did them being _family _make them any different?

Perhaps I was jaded by my own less than perfect childhood. As far as I could tell my new parents were very different from my previous ones, and though this father was a bit distant he still visited enough for me to realise who he was. My mother was startlingly affectionate, often speaking to me with a cheerful voice (I didn't understand the language yet, though it sounded similar to Japanese which I held some familiarity with, so learning it was my priority and entertainment for now) and rocking me in her arms. She'd passed me to my brother a few times allowing him to hold me for a while, which had made me distinctly nervous – I was a tiny, defenceless baby; I really didn't want to be dropped – but the young boy was always exceedingly careful. Strange, as he couldn't be older than five, but I supposed he could just be very mature for his age.

I hovered constantly between boredom and fascination. I was curious about where I'd ended up, what country this was – the language wasn't Japanese, no matter how similar, so I wondered just where I was – and what its culture was like and how it differed from my own. On the other hand, my young body severely limited my ability to perceive and thus learn more about my surroundings. Essentially, my world revolved around the three people who were now my family.

Thankfully my mother didn't seem to have a job and so would entertain me with little prompting. Of course, the 'entertainment' was rather demeaning since she thought that I was a normal infant, but it was better than lying in my cot all day. I was too weak to move around much, but when I was left alone at night I spent several hours methodically exercising my muscles as best I could, building up my strength.I was vaguely aware that infants didn't become mobile until they were over six months old, but I figured that a bit of a head start could just be passed off as early development. It wouldn't be bad to be seen as a highly intelligent child, but if that passed over the line into abnormality there was no telling how people would react.

Strangely, my body adapted quite quickly to my attempts at movement. I had very little coordination in the first few weeks, but by a month and a half I could sit myself upright without any support, use my hands effectively (rather than having a uselessly loose grip) and my vision was beginning to clear. I took to pulling the hair of my new relatives and watching their reactions; my mother would laugh, my father would frown and gently admonish me, whilst my brother would lightly tug my own hair (what little I had) in return with a smile. Just for that I decided I liked the boy, which was good as our mother (the term still sounded strange, even in my head) encouraged any interaction between us.

I settled into a routine; spend the majority of the night doing what exercise my body could manage, sleep when my exhaustion overwhelmed my determination, be woken by my mother for the indignity of 'breakfast' and a change of nappy (which I would happily repress if given the chance, though it did reveal my gender as being male), play for a while with a member of my family, sleep some more (my infant body was rather fond of that particular pastime), and repeat. The mind-numbing boredom was just barely kept at bay, but I could grudgingly bring myself to admit that I was at least…content.

And then came an event that would turn everything I knew on its head, complicating my new life to an extent that I'm quite impressed I didn't go insane.

It started off like any other day, cliché as that sounds. I was woken sometime late morning by my mother who cleaned me as usual, and then wrapped up, which wasn't. My grasp of the language was far from fluent but I could manage to understand a few words and phrases from time to time, so when she started talking in that exaggerated tone that many adults took with children (which, though the indignity of being spoken to in such a way made me glare inwardly, actually did help me in learning the language since each word was stressed and repeated in such a way that it was easier to remember) I was able to pick up the words "walk" and "village". Putting two and two together I smiled at her – I wanted to encourage this behaviour after all, and in a psychology class I'd learnt that 'rewards' such as this signalling behaviour could act as reinforcement between child and parent – actually feeling somewhat excited at the prospect.

In however long I'd lived this life – perhaps two or three months – I'd never left the house, and was rather eager to explore my new environment. It would hopefully give me some clue as to where I was. My house seemed quite modern with clear Japanese tones to its design such as the sliding doors and tatami flooring, whilst my family were well-fed – it was obvious that they were relatively wealthy at least, though somewhat conservative in their plain clothing. Going outside the house would hopefully reveal more.

My eyesight still wasn't the best, but as my mother walked down the street I could make out the buildings on each side. They were rather odd looking to my westernised eyes, again seeming to take after the Japanese tone of this place, and none of them exceeded two stories. There were quite a few people who walked by us, most greeting my mother politely as they went. I noticed that almost all of them had dark hair and pale skin like my family, and wondered if perhaps they were relatives. The few who peered down at me as my mother evidently introduced me also shared similarly dark eyes.

My mother reached a large gate and walked through with a nod to the two men standing on either side. Were they guards of some sort? Why would there be a need for them? With an internal shrug I looked around at my new surroundings.

There were more buildings of a similar style to the ones inside the - compound? I supposed that worked – though here the most predominant colour was a bright, eye-catching red. There were also a few taller structures, though none of them came near the size of skyscrapers, and I identified several shops selling various goods from clothes to food. The people here were dressed in similar clothing to my family; generally simple designs, not a pair of jeans in sight. A green vest seemed to be popular, and headbands continued to show up on various people with not apparent preference to age or gender. Was that a trend here?

"_Mikoto!" _A woman shouted happily from across the street. I blinked and she was standing in front of us, a large grin on her face. What?! How did she get over here so fast- I must've imagined her being so far away. It was impossible to move that quickly.

'Mikoto'? I presumed that was my mother's name, since she responded to the brunette woman with a smile and began talking to her. The woman made wild gestures with her hands as she talked and I examined her curiously. She wore a green padded vest like others I seen, and a headband also adorned her forehead. As close as she was I could see that there was a metal plate on the grey material, with some sort of symbol inscribed on it. Peering closely I saw that it resembled…a leaf, maybe?

I frowned inwardly. It seemed familiar somehow, as if I'd seen it a long time ago…suddenly suspicious I cast a shrewd gaze upon my environment, specifically looking for anything that seemed out of place. A woman walked passed with a screaming toddler in her arms, a long-suffering look on her thin face. A young boy was petting a cat over near an alleyway, looking around for a moment before pulling a chunk of meat from his pocket and settling it in front of the feline. A grey-haired man was selling various fruits to three children with headbands, and the girl of the trio handed over some coins with a smile. I was about to look away when in a powerful bound the three leaped from the street to the rooftops, taking off at a run that far outpaced human limits.

Gaping, I tried to associate what I'd just seen with reality. That was _impossible! _It just- it was a blatant defiance of physics, of the rules of the universe that were the damn _rules _for a reason – you didn't just _break _them! The only way something like that could happen was if I was hallucinating, or if this was a whole other universe with its own laws-

_Click. _A memory slid into place, images dancing behind my eyes. It was a story about a boy who lived in a village _(with red red buildings) _and became a ninja _(headbands – hitai-ate, green vests – chuunin, impossible feats – leap to a rooftop , chakra – the humming beneath my skin). _He had two teammates; a girl with pink hair, and a boy who betrayed him and his village, all to avenge his clan-

And suddenly the words that had been so incomprehensible began to make sense with my realisation. My family had all spoken to me at some point, as well as a few strangers who'd visited briefly, and it was only upon looking back that I understood I'd heard a name – _my _name. _(take my name take my face am I but a shadow of the - any other name would be just as –to define in such a crude manner as a name how low the mighty have fallen unto the world which tangles and __**twists-**__) _The shock brought my rapid thoughts to a stuttering halt.

The brunette woman appeared in my vision, leaning close to my face as she said brightly, "Hi Sasuke-chan!"

* * *

_The wolf smiles its bloody smile, and the boy smiles back. _

* * *

A/N: So this new story is inspired by the many SI/oc-insert Naruto reincarnation stories that I've read. I've seen a couple of others who had the OC!Sasuke theme, but I decided to put my own spin on it.

And by spin, I mean that rather than having a normal, sane OC as tends to be the case, you get this amoral, very intelligent, likely insane guy (who's gender has still not actually been specified, nor do they even have a name) who, though they know the plot of _Naruto_, is hardly a fangirl. So yeah, there won't be any 'OMG ninjas _kill?' _angst from this guy. The weird rant about death at the beginning? That's only the tip of the iceberg.

Likely this'll be a combination of a more gritty Narutoverse whilst still containing the awesome fights we're so fond of, however unrealistic they are.

Let me know what you think so far – I do read every review, and will more often than not reply if you ask a question. Any suggestions for pairings are welcome (though in the end this may remain gen, and if there is a pairing it won't be for a long while and won't be spontaneous – obligatory fangirls notwithstanding), although giving a reason behind your thoughts would be preferable. Also, I'm thinking about switching to third person but I'm not sure if it'd be better; what do you think?

Hope you enjoyed!


	2. Two: Genius is where madness hides

"_The thing about knives is…they're messy, y'know? Blood sprays all over, and it's a bitch to get out let me tell ya. Get a bit of an angle, hit the artery just right and you'll be able to direct it a little, but I prefer to wear an apron just in case, so don't go makin' fun of me._

"_Now, if ya want to cut deep, ya need to get a bit of _leverage _or you'll just nick the surface, and that's no good, is it? Ya want to tear through the muscle, maybe get to the bone beneath if you're good enough, but be careful – I don't want ya blunting my knives._

"_Hey, kid, quit looking so pale. It's a fact of life, yeah? Ya see, me, I'm the one with the knife, so I'm the one who cuts, yeah? It makes sense, don't it? If our positions were reversed I wouldn't begrudge you one bit, s'long as you did a good job of it. Fellow artists gotta 'preciate each others' talent y'know?_

"_Ooh, that's a nice glare you've got there. Maybe I'll start with those pretty eyes of yours, huh? It's real surprising how loosely they're held in your head. Only six muscles, y'know? If I'm real delicate and shit, I might even manage to get your eye out without getting a scratch on it. How'd ya like that?_

"_Hmmm, maybe not. Won't be much fun if ya can't watch the show once I get to that cute little sister of yours. Hey, hey, you two have got the same eyes, ya ever notice that?"_

* * *

_Thunk. _The kunai sunk into the wooden post, a centimetre off from its target.

_Thunk. _The next kunai was much more accurate than its predecessor, hitting the centre of the white painted circle. The force behind it buried the kunai deep in the wood, and it took a surprising amount of strength to pull it out. Well, if you didn't consider the fact that my five-year-old body was rather weak. Still, I collected both kunai and trotted over to where Itachi was standing with a faint smile on his face.

"Your aim is a little off today," I commented as I handed over the blades, before giving a wry grin. "Not worried about the Chuunin Exam, are you?"

At first, I'd found it unnerving that a child could have such accuracy in throwing weapons intended to maim or kill. But then - like everything else in this strange world - I'd accepted it, and instead found it almost fascinating. I'd noticed quickly that humans themselves were structured differently here, likely as much a product of having chakra as generations of natural selection. People, even civilians, were tougher, smarter, quicker and had better reflexes even without training. I'd seen other clan children playing ninja enough to realise this, having decided that to use myself or Itachi as a baseline could never be very accurate; I'd been training this body since I was born, and Itachi was simply a combat genius. To see such efficiency when he was only ten made me capable of believing that at thirteen he'd managed to slaughter so many skilled Uchiha ninja, with help or not.

Oh, I was well aware of what would happen in three years. I'd already begun to hear whispers of a coup – who would be suspicious of a child as young as me listening in unobtrusively? – and I knew that many felt bitter even if such radical ideas hadn't occurred to them. Mikoto had spoken of her worries about the tensions between the clan and the village when I was younger, under the assumption that I couldn't understand her and if I did I wouldn't remember; the mask of a normal, if quite intelligent infant was one that I'd been careful to maintain, and had quite a bit of practise in. The fact that Itachi was my brother came in handy, since as long as I didn't outshine him I was considered a perfectly average child.

When I realised the world I'd been reborn to, and more importantly _who _I was reborn as, I know immediately that it wouldn't all be smooth sailing. I'd be growing up surrounding by ninja, people who were always 'looking underneath the underneath' as it were. To be able to hide from them successfully was a feat that I wasn't quite arrogant enough to be assured of, but I would do a damned good job of it. Being born as the son of the head of the Uchiha clan gave me an advantage. I was expected to be more advanced than other children my age, and with a first child like Itachi my parents hardly had a good idea of how normal children developed.

But if I revealed how smart I actually was or started acting as my mentality dictated there was no way someone wouldn't get suspicious. Even Itachi, for all his supposed strangeness, was somewhat childlike, not yet the emotionless killer he would depict himself as when he reached his teens. If a five-year-old showed more maturity than the prodigy of the Uchiha clan I'd either be lauded as a genius or interrogated.

And I didn't want either to happen. I didn't want to be a so-called genius and have a target painted on my back from day one. I was fully aware of just how dangerous this world was, and even if I was a 'main character' I could still die as easily as any other. I knew the future and I didn't particularly want it to change from its predictable course that I could manipulate and use later on, even if inevitably a few details would differ due to my very existence.

The Uchiha Massacre was one such thing I wasn't going to even attempt to change. It was practically a forgone conclusion that plans for the coup would eventually go ahead; between the villagers' suspicion, the Uchiha's pride, Danzou's ruthlessness and Madara's – or rather Obito's – subtle provocation there was little to be done to even slow it down.

Even if I wanted to try who would listen to a child, especially the son of the clan head who was one of the main leaders of the coup? What would I even say? If I told the Uchiha that if they continued with their plans they would all be killed, what reason would they have to believe me? I was hardly going to tell them that I was reincarnated from a universe where this one was fictional, both because they'd think I was making it up and if I provided proof they'd drag every bit of information I had out of me. I was far more invested in my own survival than in a clan I didn't particularly care about.

I wouldn't mourn when they were killed. As a part of my 'ordinary kid' façade I played with the other clan children under the prompting of Mikoto, grinning brightly even as I sighed with boredom inwardly, but I barely bothered to learn their names. Thankfully my knowledge of _Naruto _reminded me that the original Sasuke spent most of his time trailing after his older brother like a puppy, which I much preferred. It was always interesting to watch him train – memorising his movements and techniques to try on my own when no one was around (usually when Itachi was at the academy and Mikoto encouraged me to go out and play, but instead I went to a little used training ground at the edge of the compound) – and I didn't even have to fake my enthusiasm at being allowed to practise with a few blunt weapons from time to time. I always made sure to skew my throws so that I wouldn't be abnormally good, and in doing so I actually improved my accuracy – learning how to throw specifically off target without being too consistent was quite the challenge.

It was only when I was on my own that I attempted to use my chakra. Attempt being the key word here. I'd had some awareness of it since my birth as I'd once had a body with no chakra, but there was a huge difference between knowing it was there and actually using it. Shortly after I'd realised where I'd ended up I began trying to mould it, knowing that it would be both my primary offence and defence in the years to come. But it was like trying to grab smoke; the chakra always just flowed out of my mental grasp with barely a disruption to its flow.

But that was hardly enough to deter me. Instead I spent hours every day meditating, feeling and _learning _the pathways that had formed within me (I was quite grateful for the one-minded focus I'd always been berated for during this time, otherwise I might've given up). Initially I only had a vague notion of its presence; it existed in my body and that was all. Then I began to distinguish where it was most concentrated, where the coils were actually located. It was a peculiar sensation, and as much as you could liken it to the circulatory system that transported blood around the body it wasn't as if I could feel the blood as it moved.

With chakra, I could pull and push at the stream of energy, _feel _the way it responded to my urging. In the beginning nothing happened, and I was content with simply understanding all I could by simple observation. Months passed and I eventually felt the difference between the types of chakra; physical and spiritual energy.

It occurred by accident when I was attempting to focus a little chakra to the tenketsu points in my right hand. My aim was to simply get used to manipulating my chakra within my body and getting used to the feel, so that when I needed to perform techniques that required such focus I would be able to do so, and also so I wouldn't be wasting chakra with regular techniques like Naruto was so famous for doing in the manga. I didn't have enough control to actively move the chakra to my hand, but I could somewhat influence it to flow more strongly to certain places, with much trial and error. It was by doing this that I discovered that a certain type of _pull _attracted spiritual energy, and another type _pulled _physical. It was difficult to explain exactly how; it was like trying to describe how you simultaneously contract your diaphragm and pull your ribcage outwards with your intercostal muscles in order to breath in – it wasn't a conscious action, but you can still halt or start the process without thinking over every component of it.

I realised I had a lot more spiritual energy than I did physical, which made sense considering I had the experience of a young adult and the body of a child. Thankfully this didn't seem to have any sort of negative effect, the two simply mixing together to form my chakra. I often wondered if anyone ever noticed my unusually large amount of chakra, but thought they might've just put it down to my being an Uchiha who often had large reserves anyway.

The more I practised the better I got at directing the chakra flow, and by the time I'd turned four years old I could stick my hand solidly to the wall of my bedroom. It wasn't particularly stable, occasionally fluctuating so that too much chakra was expelled and either wasted as it dissipated into the environment or forced my hand away from the wall, or simply not being strong enough. But I was a child and so had plenty of free time to train away, especially since though I was training my body as well I was careful not to do so to the extent that I damaged myself.

For physical training I could be more blatant about it rather than hiding away in my room. I would offer to help carry the shopping for Mikoto (rudimentary weight training) which she and many other women her age apparently found adorable, for some odd reason. I would play tag with other clan kids, increasing my dexterity and speed so that soon I stopped stumbling. I wasn't allowed access to weapons other than when Itachi was there, but I didn't really mind. It was…oddly enjoyable to be taught by him.

That was something I really hadn't anticipated. People…I'd never much liked people back in my first life, only a select few managed to make me care even slightly about their wellbeing. It just never occurred to me to seek out friendships and connections like other humans did, and I was perfectly fine on my own. It was the same for this world, if not more so with the deception I was constantly maintaining.

The only one that didn't fully believe the façade was Itachi. It was to be expected, I guess. He protective of me like he was depicted being of the original Sasuke, and I spent more time with him than any other person (sometimes I considered the fact that I'd essentially killed Sasuke, before dismissing it as unimportant). He was a genius and could pick up inconsistencies that the adults missed. He knew I was smarter than I let on, and sometimes when we were alone I couldn't help but speak with the maturity and lack of innocence a child couldn't have, each conversation echoing my adult views. I couldn't help it. I just…I trusted him, this boy who cared so much for my abnormal self. How stupid of me.

The first time was an accident. He'd been in the Academy for a few months and was telling me about how he'd been advanced to the final year with children several years his senior, and that Fugaku told him that it was "to be expected of the Uchiha's genius". He seemed…almost sad about that, but in a strangely detached sort of way, as if he'd already accepted that was how he would be viewed for the rest of his life and was resigned to his status as a weapon to be used. It was almost ridiculous to connect this sort of mind-set with a six-year-old, genius or not.

_(genius lies genius dies genius is where the madness hides)_

I'd scoffed and tugged his fringe lightly (it's quickly become a habit of mine, and as a cute little toddler I could get away with it), before saying with a hint of teasing, "Just because you're a genius doesn't mean you're incapable of dying as easily as any other human. In fact, it's far more likely since no one will underestimate you. You're not invulnerable, so don't go getting a big head."

He looked at me shrewdly for a few moments, and I instantly picked up on the mistake I'd made. Keeping my apparent mentality and speech pattern to an infant's level was something I'd managed to maintain, up until this moment at least. I expected him to call me out on it, but all he did was smile slightly and say, "I won't, I promise."

I thought he'd tell our parents my secret, and had watched him suspiciously at dinner that evening. It was the only time our family all gathered in one place together, and so would be the optimum time for Itachi to bring the topic up. But he'd just gone about eating quietly as he always did, answering Fugaku succinctly when he asked about the Academy training and complimenting the new recipe Mikoto had tried out. Over the next couple of weeks I hadn't let my guard down and continued to avoid him, ignoring the inquiring and somewhat hurt looks sent my way at dinners, replying with monosyllable answers whenever he tried to talk to me, until finally I realised he wasn't going to betray me. The next day I offered to collect the kunai he used to train with, and the open happiness he'd shown was enough to make me feel almost ashamed. I realised then that if there was anyone I trusted and cared about in this strange world, it was him.

And I decided that Itachi wasn't going to die.

* * *

I flipped a page of my notebook and continued writing in a neat, tiny scrawl. The words themselves were English, but the sentence structure echoed the German language since I knew both fluently, and the occasional odd word was borrowed from my limited knowledge of French, Italian and Latin. Perhaps it was the paranoia speaking, but I wanted my 'code' to be as unbreakable as possible, what with the sensitivity of the information written there.

It was, essentially, a timeline of the _Naruto _world, or as much as I could remember in any case. I had a good memory; however I couldn't expect myself to be able to perfectly recall some vital detail in ten, fifteen years time when said facts became important. As I wrote I remembered odd bits of information – I wasn't an avid fan of the series, but I'd followed it all the same – and so the order wasn't exactly chronological at many points. A few words or sentences dotted the borders when I happened to recall something directly relevant to what I'd already written, or made amendments based on my observations. Overall I'd included a detailed account from the beginning of the series up until Sasuke fought Danzou, with notes on the other Hidden Villages, Madara's activities, the nature of chakra and various techniques, the bijuu, and an amalgamation of odd nuances that came to mind.

Despite how much I'd managed to write down already I wished I'd been a more of a fanatic. Reading the manga had been little more than an amusing pastime that was more nostalgic than anything as I grew older, so I couldn't be expected to remember everything. On the other hand, though this world definitely resembled the Narutoverse greatly, what if it wasn't exactly the same? I'd accepted that this world wasn't fictional and had more or less decided on the parallel universe theory, but that didn't mean there couldn't be inconsistencies between the two. It was better not to believe that everything would adhere to the writings of a middle-aged man, and that this place was as dynamic as my original world.

However certain details were definitely the same. The founding of Konohagakure by Senju Hashirama and Uchiha Madara went more or less as canon dictated, according to the history book I'd borrowed (or rather stolen and hoarded away) from Mikoto. Basic geography, political structure (the Shinobi Wars had occurred with concurrence to canon), the Konoha clans and the Kyuubi attack (_sheer terror from its mere presence how fascinating) _matched the manga as well. I'd be able to find out more once I started the Academy and was given academy student level access to the information stored at the Shinobi Library, but for now I made do with the variety of books my family owned.

"Otouto?"

I looked over my shoulder to where Itachi stood a couple of metres away, footsteps soundless on the wooden flooring. I was no longer surprised at how he managed to move so quietly, and with two shinobi parents effortless grace was something I'd gotten used to. It was always a bit odd when I went into the village and saw civilians – to my eyes they looked clumsy and slow. "Hi, Itachi," I greeted (I preferred not to use honorifics such as -nii unless it offended the person in question, and Itachi didn't seem to mind) as he took a seat on the floor beside me, peering at the notebook in my hands.

A bemused look passed over his face. At this stage he was still rather open with his emotions, or at least he was when it was just us. "Why are you…writing in code?" he guessed.

"I'm plotting world domination, of course," I said matter-of-factly, jotting down a note about the Houzuki clan and their ability to turn their bodies into liquid form that had just occurred to me. They were weak to lightning, but I wondered if a poison dissolved into their liquid form would come into effect once they solidified.

"Sasuke…you're five years old."

"What, is there an age limit on world domination? Besides, this is just the planning stage. You can help me implement it, if you want," I offered generously. The amused smirk that spread across his face brought about an internal cheer. The poor kid really didn't smile enough, and since I was personally invested in his welfare it was my duty to rectify this. His future was going to be hard enough as it was.

"If you teach me this code of yours, I'd be glad to," Itachi bargained.

I shook my head. "No, this is mine. I can teach you another code though."

His eyebrow rose. "You managed to come up with more than one?"

With a huff I grabbed an empty notebook – I had a sizeable pile of them set neatly against the wall – and set it on the floor between us. "Yes, though it isn't as complicated as my other one. This is more of a language than a code, though it shouldn't take too long for you to learn it. But," I levelled a serious look at the older boy, which I knew with my chubby cheeks and big eyes wasn't the slightest bit intimidating, as evidenced by Itachi's widened smile. "You have to promise to keep it to yourself."

"I promise," he agreed solemnly, and I pretended to ignore his huff of laughter when I went into 'teacher mode' – straighten intangible glasses, cross my arms and look down my nose at my 'pupil', before beginning my lecture.

For the next couple of hours I taught Itachi the basics of German. As expected he caught on quickly, and the prospect of something new to learn seemed to interest him, so he wasn't just indulging his odd little brother. Teaching was unexpectedly fun, and I wondered if my previous life hadn't gone as it had if I'd have ended up a teacher at some primary school. I was always good with children, even if I'd never been completely comfortable with them after my…after _that (screaming she's screaming oh God help me help __**her **__get off her you __**bastard **__leave her alone nononono stop stopstopstop CELI-). _

But thinking about that sort of thing was pointless. I was here to stay, and if I had a say in it that wouldn't be changing anytime soon.

* * *

_Aaah Itachi why are you so hard to write? Can someone please tell me if I completely messed him up, though please keep in mind the fact that this is Kid!Itachi, so he's not hiding his emotions so much at the moment._

_So, this is basically an exposition chapter, with a little bit more hinting to OC!Sasuke's past – that guy speaking at the beginning isn't OC!Sasuke by the way, though the speaker is talking _to _him. So, Sasuke also gets a bit more of a personality, yay! Though, he may seem like a nice guy, but this is only really with Itachi. The why was hopefully explained well enough._

_Uchiha Massacre will probably be coming around soon, but I felt that I needed to get the kiddy years out of the way rather than just time skipping them all. _

_Let me know what you think of the chapter, and I hope you enjoyed! _


	3. Three: Pretty lies and pretty eyes

_I stood in a windowless room. _

_It was dark, so much so that I could barely see the walls despite it being such a small room. I tried to move and the chains binding my body held me immobile, cold metal against my cold skin. There was a candle in the middle of the room, set in a silver candle-stick holder that flickered to a stormy grey when I blinked. The yellow flame itself was small and weak, barely illuminating the room, but to my eyes it was the brightest thing I'd ever seen. I longed for this light in a way that was almost painful, a vice around my chest that crushed with every breath I took. _

_This light, _my _light, was all that mattered in this empty world. I loved it with a fierceness that clawed at my heart, a protective instinct that cried for the blood of those who would wish it harm. I was locked in this darkness, but I was content as long as my light remained. The flame giggled and laughed, and an image of trusting eyes and gold hair and a beaming smile danced through my mind. _

_Suddenly the shadows in the room coalesced into a hunched being, all jagged edges and eyes – hundreds of eyes dotting its malformed body. It stepped towards the flame and I screamed and the flame screamed (leave her alone leave her alone leaveheraloneleaveheralone) and the shadow laughed and CELI- _

I jerked awake, breaths coming in shuddering gasps as I stared into the darkness. It took me a second to recognise it as my bedroom, and when I did my eyes slid shut wearily, panic abating as my heart slowed from its frantic beat.

Nightmares…I hasn't really suffered from them in this life, and though my younger years were plagued by them once I reached my twenties they were few and far between. And to dream of _that, _of all things. How cruel my subconscious was. It was enough to make me grin.

Before I realised it I was once more asleep.

* * *

"Are you sure you have everything?"

"Yes, kaa-san."

"Your notebook? Pencils? Pens? Kunai? Shuriken?"

"Yes, kaa-san."

"What about your bento?"

"I have it, kaa-san."

"You didn't put it at the bottom of your backpack, did you? And your weapons, you made sure to pack them away carefully so you don't cut yourself?"

With a sigh I regarded Mikoto with exasperation. "They're blunt, remember? You _did _buy them."

Today I was starting the Academy, where I would spend the next compulsory six years learning how to be a shinobi. It would be my first day at a Konoha school; many children went to the civilian school when they were four or five in order to learn basic skills, implemented due to the large number of orphans who had no parents to teach them how to read and write, or if they did have parents they were often too busy with work. However, since I was an Uchiha with a retired parent Mikoto had taken up the duty of 'teaching' me in preparation for the Academy for the last year, unnecessary as it was. Faking a lower intelligence was tedious at the best of times, and it made me all the more grateful for Itachi's company since I didn't have to hide. Or, at least not to the same extent.

But Itachi had been going on a lot more missions lately, often being gone for days and returning exhausted, though he did his best to hide it. I knew that it was because he'd joined the ANBU, but it was annoying all the same. I hastily stifled the part of me that expressed concern (_he can't die he can't die not like her he can'tcan'tcan't-) _over the obvious danger he faced.

It was odd to think that I'd be in a genin team at the same age that Itachi was an ANBU captain. Last year the Hokage had passed a law declaring that the minimum age for advancing to genin was twelve years, reasoning that child soldiers weren't necessary in a time of peace. There'd been some protests from shinobi and even civilians who were enamoured with the idea of child genii, and didn't want them to waste away in school when they could be of better use serving the village. However there was enough support from concerned adults and jaded shinobi that the act was passed, though even if there had been stronger objections as Hokage he still could've enforced it.

If I hadn't been expecting it I might've been annoyed that I'd have to spend so long in the Academy when I was fully capable of passing the exam much earlier, but I'd long since resigned myself to it, for the sake of canon if nothing else. It would be a shame to lose such a useful advantage. I wanted to stick to the story until at least the Chuunin Exam Arc, since there was very little I could gain by changing much before that time. The formation of Team Seven and its various misadventures was something I was willing to go along with, as my survival was unlikely to be put into too much danger as long as I followed the 'script'.

I could've attempted to become a genin much earlier – if I showed myself to be a prodigy on the level of Itachi and Shisui then the clan's demands might be enough to force and exception to be made – but I simply didn't see the point. It may have gotten me access to higher level jutsu and techniques that I could learn, and teachers who could vastly improve my skills, but I wasn't prepared to pay the price.

I didn't want to become just another tool of the village or the clan, as expendable as any other shinobi. I didn't want to risk my life on increasingly dangerous missions for the sake of people I didn't give a damn about. I didn't want people scrutinising my every action, pressurising me to improve for _their _sake and drafting me as just another faceless weapon. In the long run, didn't I benefit more from keeping my skills a secret until such a time that they were needed?

Besides, in about two years the Uchiha Massacre would occur, firmly cementing my value as the last supposedly loyal Uchiha of Konoha. There would be no chance of Danzou managing to whisk me away to his little band of brainwashed puppets, or plucking my eyes out in his frankly pathetic scramble for power, as may occur if I brought too much attention to myself when I was so disposable.

Admittedly, I'd considered attempting to save the clan a few times. There were many talented shinobi amongst their ranks, and even if I was the 'spare' I was still the son of the clan head, which meant that many would be glad to train me if I requested. The Uchiha had been shinobi for generations, surviving the Shinobi World Wars and the Warring States Period with their numbers rarely dwindling to the extent that they were endangered, unlike many other clans who declined. The Uchiha had always kept things within the clan, accepting new blood only to avoid the negative impact of interbreeding, and ensuring that the Uchiha blood did not leave the control of the clan.

Their isolationist values and arrogance were not something I was particularly proud of, but I did acknowledge that such methods were effective in developing techniques and jutsu that rarely left the clan. Observation could allow one to recreate them of course, but such things as the Yamakaji fighting style which constantly evolved through the generations was one best learnt at the source. I would prefer to have an instructor well-versed in the style, but I supposed I could make do with the various scrolls describing the technique that every shinobi family owned, as well as my own scrutiny. It wasn't suspicious for a young boy inspiring to be a shinobi to watch his clansmen spar and train, after all. The awe-filled praises certainly helped, show-offs that the majority of the Uchiha were. Not that I wasn't guilty of such dramatics either.

"Sorry, Sasuke-chan," Mikoto crouched down in front of me, pausing in her fretting. It placed her neatly at eye-level, and I found myself staring into black eyes. It was something the members of my family, even Fugaku, had started to do when they discovered my fascination with the eyes of members of my clan. They seemed to find it amusing, and I would've protested if it weren't for the fact that I found them so interesting.

The Uchiha eyes weren't a dark brown or even grey; they were a solid black, iris all but indistinguishable from the pupil. The impossibility had caught my attention back when I was a toddler, and I'd whine incessantly if the person whose eyes I was currently examining looked away. They were willing to indulge me even now when I no longer put up a fuss, and I grew used to reading their eyes for emotion rather than simply their faces and voice.

Mikoto's eyes expressed her worry, faint sadness and pride all at once; out of my family she was by far the most emotive. "I just want everything to go well on your first day. Be careful and make some friends, okay?"

I nodded with a reassuring smile, interjecting just the right amount of excitement and nervousness into my expression. "Okay!" I wish Itachi was the one taking me to the Academy instead, but he'd been out on another mission for the past week and wasn't due back yet. Playing the part of a child all the time was exhausting, however much I was used to it.

* * *

Sitting on a bench in the back row in a room of squealing, shouting and laughing children, I restrained the urge to leap out of the closest window.

I didn't mind children, true, but that was concerning two or three at once. Thirty-seven six-year-olds all excited to begin training as shinobi, their youth empowering them with a hyperactivity that put caffeinated squirrels to shame? That was another matter entirely.

They had started out quiet enough, staring near-reverently at the Hokage as he made his speech whilst we stood attentively before him like the little soldiers we would soon be trained to be. A few fidgeted from time to time but they remained quiet, overwhelmed by their awe of the so-called Shinobi no Kami and his impassioned talk of the Will of Fire that supposedly burnt within each of them. It was clear that they lapped up his every word. The effectiveness of Konoha propaganda was truly impressive.

Anyway, the eighty or so children were separated into two groups and led to their classrooms by their teacher for the year. Within the next three years fifty percent would drop out in favour of the civilian school, a further thirty percent following them before the final year. These had the choice of signing up for the less-intensive Shinobi Training Facility that trained those who would fill up the majority of the genin ranks, a few managing to make it to chuunin if they were lucky enough to catch the attention of a jounin.

The class I had been assigned to contained the children who belonged to the shinobi clans, the offspring of a shinobi of at least chuunin rank, and those civilians who displayed some sort of talent (such as high chakra control, some fighting ability, exceptional intelligence, et cetera) on the test civilians were required to take in order to enter the Academy. Anyone related to a shinobi was automatically accepted with the assumption that their lineage gave them higher qualification, holding especially true to clan children.

However, the fact that they had more potential than the other class did not exempt them from the unfortunate consequences of 'being a six-year-old'. They were far too young to realise the responsibility and inherent darkness of being a shinobi; rather, they were all excited to be learning 'super awesome jutsu'. I specifically heard a boy on the bench in front of me regaling a tale to his enraptured group about his sister – who was apparently a jounin – taking on a hundred Iwa-nin in a battle that sent them 'crying for their mommies'. I scoffed and rolled my eyes, which the kid caught going by the completely unthreatening glare he was shooting at me.

"What are you laughing at?" he demanded, puffing up beneath my bored gaze. With brown hair and blue eyes he didn't have any of the distinctive features predominant in clan children, so I guessed he was the kid of a shinobi. It accounted for the hero-worship in his voice and the obvious exaggeration when he talked about his sister; children from clans were less likely to boast since it wouldn't impress anyone else within the clan when they were likely related to someone who had achieved an even more impressive feat.

"If your sister really did fight Iwa-nin, I doubt that they'd have run away," I stated dully. I blamed my boredom on this indulgence; we'd been given an hour to get to know each other and I wasn't too keen on playing nice with uninteresting brats who likely wouldn't be here by the time of graduation.

Oh, I'd spotted a few canon characters. Even though I only knew their animated counterparts and was far more familiar with their design at an older age, I could still pick them out with reasonable accuracy. For example, Ino sat by a brunette near the front of the room, Shikamaru and Choiji were together by the window, I saw a flash of pink hair on the second row, and I was pretty sure that was Hinata covering her distinctive eyes with her hair in the corner.

I didn't see the point in attempting to befriend them. The script certainly didn't require that I do so – from what I'd seen in _Naruto _the Rookie Nine weren't the biggest fans of Sasuke, exempting the fangirls – and I didn't think Sasuke actually had any friends in his Academy days anyway. If he could get away with it and still come off as an ordinary child, then so could I. There was some worth in making allies, but at this point it simply wasn't worth the effort. None of the clan heirs could offer me influence that I didn't already have or would soon gain as the last Uchiha, except perhaps Hinata since the Hyuuga were on par with the Uchiha in terms of standing, but her lack of self-confidence meant she would never be taken seriously. I just didn't see how I could benefit from playing nice with the kiddies. In the long run I didn't plan on staying in Konoha, anyway.

The bragging boy bristled at my comment. "Nee-san is super strong! They didn't stand a chance against her-"

"You're not listening," I interrupted, propping my elbow up on the table and resting my chin in my hand. "I said that they wouldn't be running away."

The brunet's brow furrowed in confusion. He opened his mouth but I continued, "They'd be dead. The dead can't scream for their mommies, after all."

Bragging boy – and the children around him – paled just a tad. Yes, I was well aware that I was acting nothing like a normal kid, but _damn_ it felt good. Acting so _nice_ and _cheerful _and _childish_ all the time – it made me want to demand Itachi hurry up and slaughter the clan so I could do a one-eighty and blame it on the trauma. I had good self-control but being a kid again was taking its toll on me, especially so with Itachi being away so much. The tension made me want to lash out, immature as it was.

Was it risky acting this way? Not particularly. The teacher wasn't paying much attention and we sat at the back of the room, everyone else's conversations drowning what I said out. There were no important characters nearby who might remember my attitude at an inopportune moment, or mention something to their influential parents. Just a few nobodies who would either drop out or bulk up the background. Besides, they were _six; _in a few years they wouldn't even remember.

"N-nee-san doesn't kill." Hm? It seemed bragging boy had found his voice. He stared at me with determination in his innocent blue eyes. "Nee-san protects people. She's a hero-"

I laughed harshly at that, cutting off what would've surely been quite the naïve _(naïve so naïve pretty blue eyes so trusting so innocent don't hurt her don'thurther!) _spiel. Once again I applauded Konoha's propaganda prowess. Hiding killers behind the masks of heroes and protectors, making the other villages believe that Konoha was weak with their values of teamwork and the Will of Fire…they had quite the talented PR department.

Everyone knew to expect a Kiri-nin to be vicious and bloodthirsty, to never turn your back on a Suna-nin, and to expect revenge from an Iwa-nin. But Konoha…Konoha was _good _and _bright _and _kind_. Konoha was peaceful and benevolent, and made all the weaker by it. Konoha sheaved its claws so efficiently that only those who knew power in all its illusions and falsity could understand the extent of Konoha's danger. For what was more dangerous than a shinobi who never doubted his orders, saw the guise to be truth and _believed? _

"Hero, huh?" I murmured, eyes slipping closed _("You monster! I'll kill you! I'll rip you apart-" "He's not a monster! He saved me, he's a hero! You don't understand-")_. "Such a pretty lie." I've never believed in heroes, not even in my first childhood. For a true hero to exist there could be no humanity in them, no fallibility or selfishness, no conscience of self or identity. How could anything so flawless as a hero exist without becoming a monster just as easily? It's all a matter of perspective really. One man's hero is another's monster, one man's truth is another's lie.

Ah, I was rambling. Such thoughts were pointless and only led me around in endless circles of nonsensical questions and answers. I always did enjoy Philosophy though. Learning what people believed in and _why _had always interested me, even if I couldn't understand them at all. Things like faith and morals were never something I'd managed to grasp, lingering tauntingly outside my comprehension. Maybe I was better off that way, maybe not. It didn't change anything.

"It isn't a lie!" Protested the bragging boy, fists clenched as he stood and glared down at me. "Nee-san is a real hero!"

"Bored," I sighed and looked away. Bragging boy was no longer of any interest, so I turned my gaze to the window, blocking out his spluttering. I could see a field with targets set up along the far edge near a small forest, where a class of older students were practising with shuriken. A black-haired boy in a red shirt missed his target completely much to the amusement of his brunet companion. A girl in a yellow jacket managed to cut herself and was fussed over by her blond friend, whilst a dark-haired girl scoffed in derision and went back to throwing her shuriken with perfect accuracy. I doubted we'd even begin using weapons until next year at least.

When the hour was up our teacher – Hiroki-sensei – gave a short speech on what we would be covering this year. The first year would be primarily composed of the subjects generally taught in civilian schools - History, Maths, writing skills and the like – with the addition of basic exercise to start building up muscles. The students were too young for strenuous training, and too immature to understand what they had so happily signed up for. Discussions on war tactics and the most efficient way to kill a man could wait.

Hiroki began the actual lesson with a lecture on the founding of Konoha, emphasizing the brutality of the Warring Era and the ingenuity of Senju Hashirama's vision of peace (with a rather off-handed mention of Uchiha Madara's contribution – he couldn't praise the man who turned traitor after all). He talked about how the village had started out as only a few buildings at the base of a mountain, but had expanded at an alarming pace, attracting shinobi and civilians alike with the safety it offered. The idea of a shinobi village was startlingly successful, and the village had little trouble filling its ranks with eager shinobi.

It was sugar-coated – couldn't go traumatising the kiddies quite yet – but got the basic facts across, bringing up the negotiations with the various clans and the ruling daimyo of the time. Despite the obvious bias that painted Konoha in the best light possible I found it quite interesting; the books I'd read didn't go into much detail on the many treaties that had been drawn up and promises made.

The glazed eyes and lolling heads of the children around me told me I was in the minority. Though the chuunin tried to make it interesting it _was _a rather dry subject, especially to six-year-olds who just wanted to learn 'cool jutsu'. However I could see why he'd begun with this; already they were painting Konoha in a near glorified light, likely with the aim of inspiring these future Konoha-nin to be prepared to risk their lives for the sake of the village. No one would sacrifice themselves for a worthless cause, but to ensure the survival of Konoha, of their home that was a light in the darkness of the shinobi world? Such loyalty was valuable.

When Hiroki was finished with his lecture he set us to doing a maths test in order to judge what level we were at. It was likely tests such as these that had led to Itachi's acceleration through the Academy, since it placed him far ahead of those in his age group.

The questions themselves were simple; addition, subtraction, a smattering of multiplication and divisions, and a few more difficult (comparatively) to suss out the prodigies. I judged it to be slightly above the standard curriculum of six-year-olds in my former world, at least in the school I attended and from what I could remember.

I made my way leisurely though the two pages of questions, purposely taking longer and adjusting my handwriting to be more messy than usual, though still neat for a child. In the end I answered eighty-two percent of the questions correctly, made minor mistakes on a further ten and left the rest blank or obviously incorrect. I wanted to place myself at the top of the class, not at the level of Itachi or Kakashi who would've breezed through this. Drawing too much attention wasn't something I wanted to do at this point. It was far better to be seen as the young canon Sasuke had been; undoubtedly skilled but nowhere near the level of Konoha's genii. It was only after Sasuke deflected that he became a true powerhouse.

We handed the tests in and were given an hour to have lunch. I ate my bento quickly and ignored any attempts at conversation from my classmates, idly flicking through the textbook on Konoha's history Hiroki had handed out earlier this morning. It was simple enough for a child to understand and coloured Konoha in a favourable light, of course, glossing over details of corruption and cruelty that plagued every system at one point of another.

Now, I wasn't saying that Konoha was some evil, mocking shadow that somehow had everyone fooled. In comparison to the other villages Konoha _was _better in many ways. It had low poverty and unemployment with support even being offered to those worse off, and was one of the more technologically advanced villages with a healthcare system accessible to both civilians and shinobi. The civilians held the slight majority in terms of population but Konoha was very much a shinobi village, an autocracy with the Hokage at its head and a council of civilians and clan heads occasionally being called to advise him in certain economic, social or militaristic problems. There was a fair justice system and safeguards were put into place in case the Hokage was ever corrupted by his own power. The village didn't sent toddlers out to fight or employed brutal methods in order to get the best possible soldiers.

But that didn't mean everything was sunshine and rainbows. Trained killers were still trained killers, and no amount of speeches on the power of friendship could change that fact.

* * *

_So, OC!Sasuke's a dick to children. When I started writing this that wasn't actually my intention, but my characters tend to have the annoying tendency of writing themselves. But don't worry, he's less of a little shit when he's older. Hopefully._

_Another more expositional chapter; hope I didn't bore you. Sasuke has a weird thought process that likes to ramble and he had a very cynical view of the world, so yeah take that into account. He really isn't going to be interacting much with other kids his age until team seven forms, which shouldn't be too long away. The twists that aren't quite twists will begin around Chuunin Exam arc. _

_Any questions are always welcome, and reviews are a great way to get me writing – I keep getting distracted by other half-started stories (e.g. Jinchuuriki!Kinda Time Travel!Sakura, ExplosionObsessed!Team Seven, dark gritty crazy SI!Fem!Sai, insane SI!OC!Uchiha survivor, and so on). Feedback always gives me ideas and helps inspire me. Still have no idea about pairings – or if there will even be one – so suggestions would be nice. _

_Oh, here's some translations;_

_Yamakaji – wildfire (specifically 'threat of wildfire'). Couldn't think of a better name for the Uchiha fighting style but thought it fit well enough with their usual fire-nature. _


End file.
